Control
by victory.x
Summary: Draco Malfoy doesn't want to be a Death Eater, but does he really have a choice? A five-chapter songfic based off of Halsey's "Control". This story contains the four D's: dark, disturbing, depressing, and Draco.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hiya! This my first story, so I don't even know if I did this right. Maybe it didn't even update. I don't know. Maybe I'm talking to myself right now. Hopefully not. Anyway, show it some love, please!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or I'd be riding on a unicorn right now. I don't own Halsey's music either. Look up the song, it fits really good with this story.**

 **Warning: This is excessively depressing. Why is my first story so depressing? I don't know.**

* * *

 _They send me away to find them a fortune_

 _A chest filled with diamonds and gold_

 _The house was awake_

 _With shadows and monsters_

 _The hallways they echoed and groaned_

* * *

"Please, My Lord, he is but a boy, he is considerably young—"

"He must make up his father's folly." Voldemort's cool, silken voice slipped quietly over Narcissa's, who's was now tinged with panic.

 _It wasn't my father's folly at all_ , Draco thought rebelliously, his heart hammering with fear. He was kneeling before the monster before him, head bowed, blond hair falling onto his forehead. _Voldemort had miscalculated, and if it wasn't for Potter—_

A surge of hatred flowed through him, tightening the muscles in his face. He did not dare look up.

"Besides, the boy is honored. Aren't you, Draco?"

Draco bit down so hard on his tongue he tasted blood. "Yes, My Lord." he responded without stammer, his tone sounding even slightly bored.

There was a pause.

"Then it is done."

Draco heard his mother's muffled scream; and listened to her flee the hall. Bellatrix clucked her tongue in disapproval. "Embarrassing, ain't it?" she said, sniggering, pulling him up to his feet when Voldemort glided from the room. Draco was wise enough to know to not reply. "Your mother, boy. She always was such a coward. That's why I have the Mark, and she doesn't!" Bellatrix said in a smug tone, pulling up her sleeve to show him the Dark Mark. It writhed upon her pale skin, skin so like his. A similar Mark was now upon his arm as well. He hated it.

"Yes, Aunt."

"I'm rather glad that Our Lord chose you for this task." Bellatrix said, smiling at him wickedly. "I know you've got a bit more in you than your father— I'll reckon it's the Black blood in you. Them Malfoys were always such a shrewd lot, always forcing the ones beneath them to do their dirty work, while they got all the credit." Bellatrix cackled. Draco stared at her. She was _revolting_.

"Now, off to bed with you. You've got an awfully big day tomorrow, doncha?" His aunt shoved him towards the door. "Goodnight!"

* * *

Draco slept fitfully. His dreams were never quite the same since Voldemort came back to power.

His morning consisted of gray sunlight and a nightmare. He sat straight up, breathing hard and sweating. He tried remembering what the dream was about, but all he detected was a cold sense of fear. He swallowed, and got dressed.

"He's waiting for you in the drawing room, dear." Bellatrix said in a sickeningly sweet voice when he reached the kitchen. A cold fist clenched about his heart, and the fear that had been swimming in his mind during his nightmare came back, full force. He wondered what would happen if he didn't go.

He didn't want to find out. He took a breath and stepped into the drawing room.

Draco stared at the ground, his eyes wandering across the stone floor to the hem of a black robe.

Voldemort smiled.

"Good morning, Draco."

* * *

He screamed.

He lay bleeding upon the floor, his blood looking distorted. Was the ground always this red?

"Control, Draco, control," Voldemort said patiently, a hint of malice hidden in his eyes. His eyes— his eyes looked very much like Draco's blood.

He pointed his wand again at Draco and his wounds sealed up. Spots of pain still lingered in Draco's eyes; he wondered if they'd ever leave.

Voldemort did not even give him a minute of relief. " _Crucio!_ "

Pain exploded through his system, causing him to arch his back, clenching his hands into fists. His nails dug into his palms. His vision went upside down. He refused to scream. He refused to scream. _He refused to scream._

He clenched his teeth and struggled to remain conscious.

Voldemort lifted his wand, and smiled. "Good."

Draco collapsed. The world spun.

"No more screaming. We will continue this tomorrow." Voldemort said, as if he was teaching a class.

Draco tried to breathe. "Yes, My Lord." he responded weakly, still no stutter in his tone. Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"Get up, boy." he said suddenly, harshly. He was determined to break him. For if a boy wouldn't yield, why would Dumbledore?

Draco fought back a whimper, and placed his hands on the ground. They slipped on his blood.

He got up shakily to his feet, dripping red.

Voldemort examined him, and for a moment, admired the boy's will.

"Tomorrow, Draco, you will not scream."

He left the room, and Draco fainted.

* * *

 _"Son."_

 _His father spoke the word as if it was a disease, in a voice so distasteful that Draco wondered exactly why his father hated him so much._

 _"Father." he replied, bowing his head. His voice was afraid._

 _"Have you finished your chores?"_

 _"Yes." Draco murmured. "I wondered—I wondered if—" His voice gave out, like a sputtering flame._

 _"Yes?" Lucius urged coldly. "I don't have all day, Draco."_

 _His face burned. "I wondered if you could play quidditch with me, just for a little while." Draco said in one breath, sounding terrified._

 _There was a tense silence._

 _"Silly boy. Don't you see that I have no time for you and your foolish nonsense?" Lucius snarled. "Get out of my office, and do something useful!"_

 _Draco left._

 _He was eight._

* * *

 _Draco had accidentally cried in front of his father when he broke his toy boat. He had been working on it all afternoon, and had wanted his father to be proud, not angry. He hadn't known that boats were muggle._

 _Lucius kicked the boy down the stairs, allowing him to break his arm at the bottom, splitting his head on the last step._

 _After healing him, he left his broken body at the foot of the staircase. A crumpled, neglected child, untouched by love._

 _He was four._

 _Draco did not cry again._

* * *

 **A/N: Depressing, huh? I warned you! And I have no idea why I added those memories at the end. I just wanted you guys to feel even worse for poor, wittle Dwaco:( Wait for the next chapter, it gets worse!:)**

 **REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter two. Read on. Drink some hot chocolate with this, so you aren't permanently depressed for life. Go on. Have some chocolate. *hands you some half-baked brownies* Eat. You'll feel better. #REMUS LUPIN I AM SO FREAKING GOOD**

 **Ok. Go on.**

* * *

 _I sat alone, in bed till the morning_

 _I'm crying, they're coming for me_

 _And I tried to hold these secrets inside me_

 _My mind's like a deadly disease_

* * *

"You must have practice, if you are ever to succeed in killing Dumbledore." Voldemort said in his high, cold voice.  
It had been weeks of torture for Draco. Pain was the lesson of each day; but Voldemort had never actually asked Draco to _kill_ someone.

Draco stared, horrified, at the small, unconscious Muggle boy lying on the ground. He had been crying for his mother a few moments ago, until Voldemort had silenced him quickly. The boy looked at Draco in alarm. Where on earth did they find him?

"Your aunt retrieved it for me," Voldemort said silkily, as if reading his thoughts. _Which_ , Draco thought, _was highly likely._

"What shall you have me do?" Draco asked, wondering if he had the evil in him to kill a child.

"We'll start at the beginning." Voldemort replied, smiling. " _Death_."

"That's the end," Draco corrected without thinking.

Voldemort gave a high-pitched laugh. "How warped your thinking is, boy! Death and oblivion before birth have more than quite a few similarities."

Draco wanted to keep him talking so he could buy the boy a little more time. "He's only a child," he said, and Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "it'd be much easier to kill him than an adult." he added quickly, so that the Dark Lord wouldn't mistake him for being weak.

Voldemort's body relaxed, but his eyes were still suspicious.

"I said we're starting at the beginning." he said quietly. "Come now, Draco. You aren't saying you're afraid, are you?"

Draco swallowed. _Yes, yes he was._

"No, My Lord."

"Then begin. Point your wand." Voldemort sounded eager, his eyes flickering from red to black.

Draco didn't move for a few seconds.

" _Point your wand_." Voldemort's voice was dangerously low.

Trembling, Draco lifted his wand hand. He looked anywhere but at the boy he was about to kill. How could he kill a _child?_

The boy whimpered, pressing himself up against the wall, whispering something under his breath. With a start, Draco realized he was _praying_.

 _He couldn't. He wouldn't._

His wand fell from his hand and clattered onto the ground.

"I can't," he said, breathing hard. "I can't do it."

He fell to his knees, waiting for the punishment to come.

He felt a hard kick in the ribs, and Draco fell over, gasping. "Foolish boy," Voldemort snarled. "You weakling. _Crucio!_ '

Draco wanted to laugh, but he only screamed. He'd felt pain like this before, and soon, would it even be called pain? Or habit?

" _Feelings_. A fool's daydream." Voldemort said furiously. "What do you _feel_ now, Draco?"

Voldemort lifted his hand, and the waves of pain receded from Draco's body, slinking back into the dark abyss of Voldemort's eyes. The Muggle boy near the wall was crying and hugging his knees.

The Dark Lord's eyes flashed. " _You!_ " he snapped. He flicked his wand in the boy's direction, and a slash appeared from the boy's shoulder down to the opposite side of his chest. The child cried out. "No," Draco mumbled, his vision blurred.

"Now, boy, I will teach you a lesson." Voldemort said. His voice was calm, but his eyes were furious.

He pointed his wand. " _Imperio_."

It was a strong curse. All at once, Draco's will crumbled, and he could no longer think for himself.

" _Stand_."

Draco stood. His eyes had turned to glass. He felt nothing.

" _Come_."

Draco came. They walked through the hallways of his house, vast, grand hallways decorated with crystal chandeliers and expensive rugs. Everything felt cloudy and musty to him, as if he wasn't really familiar to his house; only Voldemort. Only the Dark Lord. Nothing else.

 _Only the Dark Lord_.

What did he care for his house or that stupid Muggle boy bleeding to death?

 _Only the Dark Lord._

They stopped in the dining room. Narcissa Malfoy was placing plates around the table. They were hosting a Death Eater meeting tonight. Her usual perfect image was messy today. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, her hair in a tangled blond jumble. She turned away from them when they came in.

Voldemort smiled at Draco.

" _Kill_."

Some part of Draco screamed for him not to do it. Some part of him cried out and sobbed. Some part of him rebelled against his glass eyes, told him that there were lies hidden in his mind, lies draped in curses and blood and red carpets. He believed none of them. To him, there was only one truth, one master.

 _Only the Dark Lord._

He remembered his mother's soft smiles and tired eyes when she tucked him in. Those were his only good memories. Motherhood had softened her; had changed her. She had something to love, something to cherish. Something to protect. He _loved_ her.

 _Only the Dark Lord_.

And suddenly, all of that went away, clouded by a thick fog. He saw nothing but soulless reptilian eyes, whispering one word to him...

 _Kill_.

He pointed his wand, and the curse was dragged from his lips. His mother screamed, and fell, her hair flying out behind her like the ocean; the ocean where she took him during vacation—

And he screamed too, and his knees buckled. He hit the floor, shaking. _What have I done what have I done what have I done_ —

"Control, Draco. You must learn control."

The curse grabbed hold of him again and pulled him outside, after Voldemort, and Draco suddenly knew heat.

Voldemort had set his house on fire.

Great clouds of smoke rose up from his beautiful home, plumes of red and orange and fiery sunset, vapors of brilliant death.

Voldemort lifted his wand and thoughts exploded in Draco's brain. He thought of the Muggle boy and his prayers, his mother and her tearstained eyes, and if Bellatrix was thankfully dead. The house he had grown up in was burning.

"You killed them, Draco." Voldemort said simply.

 _Murderer_.

The word floated on the air, down from the smoke and ash of his burning home. Draco realized he was clutching at his chest, struggling to breathe.

"What do you feel now?" Voldemort asked, gazing at the flaming Manor.

What _did_ he feel? The sound of his mother's scream plagued his mind, and his fingers dug into his palms. He was a murderer.

There was no escaping it. _He was a murderer_.

 _Murderer_.

Who else did Draco have left?

In his tortured mind, there was only one answer. An answer that reverberated from the halls of his home, from the pureblooded tapestries and portraits of the Malfoys.

 _Only the Dark Lord._

And his soul sang. A smile spread across his face. It was a different smile, a smile only acquired after incredible pain and suffering. A smile of acceptance.

 _What do you feel?_

"Nothing," he answered.

* * *

 **A/N: GASP! Draco feels nothing. He's lost his heart. He's officially a monster.**

 **...Or is he?! :)**

 **Well, you'll have to read on to find out.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Read on, my precious.**

* * *

 _I'm bigger than my body_

 _I'm colder than this home_

 _I'm meaner than my demons_

 _I'm bigger than these bones_

 _And all the kids cried out,_

 _Please stop, you're scaring me_

 _I can't help this awful energy_

 _Goddamn right, you should be scared of me_

 _Who is in control?_

* * *

There were headlines all over _The Prophet_ , killings and tortures all over the country. People were afraid. They knew who was behind these killings; but no one dared speak the name aloud.

None except, say, Harry Potter.

Draco watched Potter hurry to his seat at the table, his hair a mess, his glasses askew. That was how it was with Potter. He was always messy. Always late. Always in a hurry.

Draco sighed dramatically and examined his nails. What a silly, stupid place this was. A place where he had to watch Potter drip pumpkin juice down his shirt, when what he _really_ should be doing was accompanying Voldemort to the next Death Eater meeting.

Draco _lived_ for the meetings. Voldemort had made Draco his second-in-command, which pissed off his aunt, who, unfortunately, was still alive and annoying as ever. Draco loved the power.

He glanced over the edge of his goblet at Dumbledore, also alive and as annoying as ever. He smirked. Not for long.

"...and then she said, "You—"

"Parkinson, shut up." Draco interrupted.

Pansy Parkinson stared at him and frowned. "Draco, what's wrong with you? You've been awfully distant since summer vacation." She sounded sulky and hurt. She probably thought he got a girlfriend.

Pansy's father had this huge idea to marry Pansy off to Draco—because of his status, wealth, and power. Draco thought Bellatrix and Pansy should get together and have tea sometime.

Draco knew that Pansy was in love with him, ever since they were young. He couldn't resist being cruel. He knew now that love was just a foolish emotion.

He was tempted to say that he _had_ gotten a girlfriend. Instead, he scowled. "Nothing's wrong," he snapped. "I'm going to class."

He got up from their table and hurried out of the Great Hall, meeting a blissful silence. There was no screaming here, no speaking here. Only him and his thoughts.

Somebody bumped into him.

"Oh—I'm sorry," said a familiar, female voice behind him. Draco turned, to see Granger carrying about a million books. Her apologetic expression dissolved. "Never mind." she said in disgust, shouldering past him.

"Watch where you're going, Mudblood." Draco spat.

She didn't reply, just tossed him the finger. Draco's mind felt fuzzy. The word fell so easily from his lips. _Mudblood_. What an ugly word.

He remembered the Death Eaters, jeering at a woman writhing on the floor, as indescribable pain washed over her entire body. She had to watch them murder her family just beforehand, and she was more sobbing than screaming. Greyback got her in the end.

Draco shuddered.

What if that had been Granger? Know-it-all, bushy-haired Granger, with her stern expression and famous best friend. Granger, someone he _knew_.

Granger, a Mudblood.

It could've been her.

Would Draco be able to kill her?

 _Of course_ , Draco thought furiously. _Why wouldn't I be able to? She's just another Mudblood, just more filth to rid this world of_.

But she wasn't. She was a person too, a person who liked to read, and had a fondness for chocolate. Who wrote with her left hand, like him, who preferred snow over sunshine. Granger, who he _knew_.

Suddenly, Draco was trembling all over, and he was afraid.

"Granger," he called out before he could stop himself.

 _Control, Draco. You must learn control_.

She turned to look at him, wearing an annoyed expression. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco couldn't trust himself to speak. "The murders." he got out. "Have you heard about the murders?"

Granger's eyes narrowed. "Are you _threatening_ me, Malfoy?"

 _No, you stupid witch!_ Draco's mind screamed. _I'm trying to warn you!_

"They're killing Muggleborns." he said.

" _Mudbloods_ , you mean?" Granger said spitefully. "Do you think I don't _know_ that?"

"I—" Draco choked. "I only meant—"

Granger shook her head in disgust. "Go bully some first years, Malfoy." And she turned and left.

Draco felt frozen. He did not even move.

 _Control, Draco. You must learn control_.

Control.

Draco breathed in twice, then breathed out.

Control.

It didn't matter. Granger was stupid, and she would die. It made no difference to _him_.

Now he was angry and irritated. There would be no more stalling. The plan was tonight, but he wouldn't wait before then.

He heard the roar of students leaving for class, and a rush of adrenaline flew through his mind, making him dizzy with apprehension and excitement.

 _Now_.

The first student was a nameless Ravenclaw from two years below him.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

The boy fell over, dead.

People screamed, but Voldemort had taught Draco everything. He was invisible to his peers, and was casting death everywhere he turned. He was death _itself_.

All over the hallway, students were crumpling to the ground. Others were screaming. Chaos filled the hallway, as the students rushed madly to the exit, each praying they would not be the next one dead.

Draco was up the flight of stairs already. He sprinted down to Dumbledore's office, and skidded to a stop, his heart beating faster than the speed of light.

"Who's there?" Dumbledore asked sharply, peering around. "Harry?"

 _Potter?_ Draco thought in disgust. _Why on earth would it be that piece of trash?_

He crept closer to the old wizard, and the man tensed, as if sensing the darker magic in the room. "Tom?" was his next question.

 _Potter? Tom?_ They were but meaningless sounds to Draco. _No matter. I must finish the job._

Dumbledore. A man he knew.

Draco grit his teeth.

 _Expelliarmus!_ he thought furiously, directing his wand. Dumbledore's wand flew across the room and tumbled down the stairs. He was unarmed.

Draco's heart beat and he wanted it to stop. He was dead now, removed of all feeling—

Dumbledore's hands were on the wall, and he was feeling around. "Who are you?" the old man whispered, and a knot formed in Draco's chest, as he fought to keep control.

 _Control._

He whipped the invisibility spell off at the next second, his face a perfect mask of calm. "I am Draco Malfoy." he said. "And I am here to kill you."

Dumbledore looked surprisingly piteous, as if _Draco_ was dying, not him.

"Don't say anything," Draco snarled. "Don't guilt me into anything. I can kill. I can torture. I've done things you've never dreamed of. Look for yourself!" he gestured to the commotion downstairs, the screaming students.

Dumbledore sighed. "Draco, Draco. You are not a killer."

"You don't know me!" Draco retaliated poisonously. He glanced behind him. The students were hurrying up the stairs, probably coming to Dumbledore for protection.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong. I _do_ know you. I have taught you for six years, my boy, and you have not failed me, not once."

"Shut up!" Draco said shrilly. " _Shut up!_ "

"MR. MALFOY!" McGonagall shrieked from the stairs. Her bun had fallen out, and her eyes looked crazed.

 _It was now or never_.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " Draco yelled, pointing his wand at Dumbledore, and both Dumbledore and Draco stumbled. Only one fell.

"NOOOOOO!" Potter ripped past McGonagall and rushed toward Dumbledore and his fallen form. He whipped around to look at Draco, his face screwed up with rage. "I'll kill you, I'll kill you!"

"You wouldn't have the nerve," Draco sneered, but his insides flipped. He had his wand pointed steadily at Potter. "Move, and I'll kill him." Draco said loudly, and the crowd froze. McGonagall's face was tearstained.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Potter shouted, but it was in vain. Draco moved with a certain grace; dodging the spell effectively and shooting one of his own. He was deadly, Harry was no match for him.

" _Reducto!_ " Draco said, and Potter was blasted against the wall, bound by strong rope. He heard Granger cry out.

Draco smirked and flicked his wand in Potter's direction. A gash appeared on his cheek. Voldemort had taught him that one.

"You're insane," Potter said weakly, as blood trickled down his cheek.

"No," Draco breathed, taking a step towards the window. "I am powerful."

Another step.

"Invincible."

Another.

"Unbeatable."

Another.

"Matchless."

He put one foot on the windowsill.

He smirked again.

"What does it matter, Potter, if I am insane? I've let you all live." he sneered. "What does it matter, if I am the one in control?"

And with that, he leaped from the window, and flew past the horizon.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, for my own pleasure purposes, Draco can fly. Basically.**

 **My repeating of the word "control" is really bothering me. Is it bothering you too? REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well, you've read this far. Might as well continue.**

 **P.S. This isn't a Dramione, my friends, though I so wish it was.**

* * *

 _I paced around for hours, on empty_

 _I jumped at the slightest of sounds_

 _And I couldn't stand the person inside me_

 _I turned all the mirrors around_

* * *

Draco Malfoy was Undesirable Number One, the most feared name in the entire country after Voldemort. The killer of fifty, the murderer of Dumbledore.

 _Dumbledore_. The most powerful wizard in the world. He was dead.

Draco sat in a Muggle coffee shop on the uninteresting side of London. It was raining today, like usual, but Draco had always liked rain.

He stirred his coffee, musing over an article in the _Daily Prophet_. Apparently, Pansy had tearfully refused to believe that Draco was in control of his own self; but was being manipulated by Voldemort. Draco snickered. How little she knew.

He took a swig of his coffee. He wasn't sitting in a Muggle coffee shop for no reason. He was waiting for someone, but they were late.

The bell above the door jingled as it was pushed open, and Draco craned his neck to see who it was. He smiled.

Ginny Weasley, during her usual morning routine. She didn't even notice his brilliantly blond hair, but went straight to the counter to ask for her daily cappuccino.

He waited. Patience was a virtue, and he had to hold onto that since he had no others.

She sat down at a table near a window. She liked the sunlight.

Draco stood up and went and sat at her table, smiling at her calmly and folding his hands on the tabletop. Ginny froze, staring at him.

"Hello, Weasley," he said lazily, taking a sip of coffee. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

She didn't reply. Her eyes were wide with fear.

 _Fear_. What a delicious emotion. He could practically taste it coming off in waves from her small, redheaded little person.

"What?" he said, still smiling. "Cat got your tongue?"

"H-Harry knows I'm here!" Ginny burst out in a sudden rush of bravery, then resumed her wide-eyed staring.

"That's nice," Draco said distractedly. "Now, Weasley, I've got a job to do, and unfortunately, it includes you, and possibly, your death." He gave her his best apologetic smile. "It'll be better if you came quietly." he hinted.

Ginny's hand went instinctively to her purse, where her wand was.

"Ah, you don't need to do that." Draco said, holding up a slim, whittled wand. Hers.

Ginny gasped. "How did you—"

"A magician never reveals his tricks," Draco told her, grinning. "Now, come on. I don't fancy being late."

Ginny didn't move.

Draco was still smiling, but his eyes held a dangerous glint. " _Weasley_."

"I-I won't!"

He idly twirled her wand between his fingertips. "You aren't really in a position to have a say, Weasley."

Ginny's lip trembled, and Draco inwardly rolled his eyes. If she cried _here_ —

"Fine." she said, standing up furiously. "If it means Harry will be safe for a while." she said dramatically, lifting her chin defiantly.

Draco inwardly rolled his eyes again.

"Emphasis on 'a while'." he told her.

She clenched her teeth and followed him outside. "Portkey," he said, handing her an ornate black key. She shook her head. Only _Malfoys_.

"Where are we going?" she whispered, trying to keep calm.

"Somewhere you won't like." he responded, staring off somewhere into the distance. He grinned at her. "You're putting on an awfully brave front, Weasley." he told her, and she ignored him, concentrating on the sound of her heartbeat and if she'd hear it again.

The world spun out of control, and Ginny witnessed Malfoy's impeccable hair fly around in strange directions.

They arrived in a cold, dark graveyard. Ginny gasped and instinctively grabbed Draco's arm. He scowled and shoved her off. "Don't touch me, filth," he spat, putting on a horrifyingly cold expression. Ginny stepped away from him as if she'd been burned.

"Walk," he said, prodding her with his wand. He wore a sneer.

They walked up into a space, cleared of gravestones and willow trees. Voldemort stood, head bowed, the eerie masks of his Death Eaters surrounding them.

"Miss Weasley. You have decided to join us."

Ginny didn't speak. She looked like she wanted to run.

Voldemort lifted his head, and she squeaked in terror.

He looked to Draco and gave him a nod. "You've done well, Draco."

"Thank you, Master." Draco replied monotonously, and stepped back into his ranks as a Death Eater.

He looked at the ground.

Ginny was tied up near a girl with incredibly bushy brown hair. "Hermione?" she whispered incredulously. The girl did not stir.

Draco's mind wept. He had not wanted to hurt Granger.

" _Hermione!_ " Ginny cried out, tears leaking down her face as she tried to nudge her friend awake. She started to sob, laying her forehead upon the other girl's body. "Hermione, Hermione," she cried.

"Enough." Voldemort said sharply. He pointed his wand at Ginny and her sobs were silenced.

"Now." he breathed, looking excitedly at his followers. "We wait for Harry Potter."

The Death Eaters cheered, but Draco did not move.

The sky was a darkened purple now, slowly fading to a deep midnight. No stars. Draco watched the clouds cover the horizon, the inky black creeping forward to cover color. They waited.

Hours passed. Potter did not come.

Voldemort had had enough. "We've waited too long," he snarled. "Draco, come here."

Draco obeyed.

"Where is the boy?" he whispered viciously. Draco said nothing.

Voldemort searched the graveyard, his eyes finally falling on the Malfoy heir in front of him. The boy he had broken.

"It matters not." Voldemort said, a wave of calm coming over him. "Kill the girl."

Cold washed over Draco's heart, and he gripped his wand. "Which one, Master?"

"Granger." Voldemort replied nonchalantly, and flicked his wand in Granger's direction. " _Ennervate._ "

Granger lifted her head. Her face was bleeding, but Ginny looked at her in joy. "Ginny?" Hermione said. She looked around, breathing hard. "Let her go, you bastards!" she yelled. "I liked her better unconscious." Macnair whispered to Draco. "Do it now!"

Draco swallowed. Could he kill her?

There was a tense silence in which he and Granger stared at each other. She had beautiful eyes, he realized. Eyes that had felt pain, eyes that could touch you, eyes that expressed, eyes that felt and heard and listened. Beautiful brown eyes.

"My Lord," he said, turning to Lord Voldemort. He did not want to kill Granger. He did not want to close her beautiful eyes and leave her broken body unburied in an abandoned graveyard.

"If Granger is dead, what incentive does Potter have to come here, to you?" he asked, frantically searching his mind for excuses.

"The other will live." Voldemort replied carelessly.

"Does it matter which lives?" Draco asked, laughing nervously. "Potter loves both. Let me kill the Weasley girl instead. Granger knows more about the Order—we could use her—"

"No!" Hermione shouted, shielding Ginny's body with hers. Draco cursed her with all the names he could in his head. _Stupid, stupid, Mudblood Savior!_

"Kill me instead. Don't hurt Ginny. Kill me. Kill _me_." she whispered. "Don't hurt her."

Draco wanted to scream.

"You see?" Voldemort said, looking amused. "Let us just kill Granger. She knows her worth." He laughed, and the Death Eaters laughed with him. Draco didn't.

Draco stared at Granger.

"Do you want to die?" he asked her quietly, and Granger stared at him with her beautiful eyes. Eyes that burned into the back of his mind, forever residing there, singing songs of her pain.

"No." she whispered back, and in that one word, he heard all her fear, all her troubles and her crushed hopes. "I can't let them kill Ginny." she added tearfully, and Ginny wept silently.

"I have to kill you." he said softly. "Or else they're going to kill me, and you, and Ginny."

"I know."

"You will die."

"I know."

They stared at each other, land and sea, fire and ice. And suddenly, Draco knew beauty.

He swallowed. "Farewell, Granger."

She looked at him with her beautiful eyes again, and he tore his away. Guilt bubbled up from the ground from the souls of the dead, crying out to him, crawling onto his body like the spiders on the cobwebbed gravestones. It climbed it's way up to his throat and started to choke him, and all his mind thought was, _Control, control, control, control—_

"You're a good man." Granger whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner."

Draco's wand arm trembled.

He'd killed hundreds. He could do it again.

He looked into her beautiful eyes again for the last time, and felt as if his breath went out of him just as Granger's did.

" _Avada Kedavra._ "

It was then, that Draco Malfoy lost his sanity.

* * *

" _You're a good man_ ," Brown eyes burned into his mind as he tried to sleep. He moaned. "Stop, I'm sorry—"

" _You never failed me, not once_." Blue eyes.

" _You killed them, Draco._ "

Draco cried out, falling to the ground, tears dripping down the edge of his nose and onto the floor. He wished he could drown in his tears. His hands were soaked in blood, and it was pooling out of his fingernails and his tears were turning into London rainwater and then to blood also, and it was filling the room, choking him—

"What on earth is going on, nephew?" Bellatrix Lestrange stood at the door, staring at him in annoyance. "What a racket you're making!"

"Blood. Blood!" Draco muttered, rocking back and forth and struggled to keep his head above the rising sea of red. "I'm dying, I'm dying!"

"There's no blood in this room, Draco." Bellatrix sounded more annoyed, as if she thought Draco was wasting her time.

The blood suddenly dissipated, and all he saw were his blood-soaked hands.

Bellatrix saw it too, and her eyes turned to confused. "What have you done to yourself?" she scolded, coming towards him. He had ripped his palms open with his own fingernails. Sweet, dizzying pain filled his system and he closed his eyes.

She grabbed his wrists violently, and whispered a quick healing spell. "Go to bed, nephew." she said, giving him a strange look.

And he got lost in the darkness.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't worry Draco, I get lost in the darkness too. And the light. And everywhere. Put me in a freaking bathroom and I'll get lost.**

 **NEXT CHAPTER! REVIEW! FAVORITE! STUFF!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey, loves! This is the last chapter, OMG! I can't even believe it! The ending's weird, just a forewarning. And creepy. And sad.**

 **READ IF YOU DARE!:)**

* * *

 _I'm well acquainted_

 _With villains that live in my bed_

 _They beg me to write them_

 _So they'll never die when I'm dead_

 _And I've grown familiar_

 _With villains that live in my head_

 _They beg me to write them_

 _So I'll never die when I'm dead_

* * *

Draco hurried down to Weasley's cell, just to check if she was still alive. They had been starving her for two days.

"Weasley," he whispered furiously, looking around him.

Ginny stirred. She looked horrible. The entire place smelled of sweat. Draco wrinkled his nose.

"M-Malfoy?" she whispered, looking at him blearily. "No, it's your bleeding Saint Potter," Draco said sarcastically. "I'm going to bring you some food, alright?"

"N-no!" she said loudly, until Draco frantically signaled for her to shut up. "I want to die," she said with a choked sob. "Just let me die, Malfoy!"

Draco grit his teeth. "Weasley—"

"They killed Harry," she sobbed. " _They killed Harry!_ "

Indeed, Harry Potter was dead. All of Britain had been thrown into darkness; for Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore were gone. People were dying left and right. And instead of celebrating with the other Death Eaters, Draco was slowly dying too.

He had been plagued by terrible nightmares. All he could hear were the voices of those he'd killed. Instead of seeing people, he saw ghosts and spirits.

Draco closed his eyes, and left.

He walked through the halls of his new home, all the way to his bedroom, where he stood blankly, looking out his window.

The sky was pale blue with a swathe of soft pink, like a cotton candy sky, but Draco didn't notice any of that. He was staring at the ghost of Hermione Granger sitting on the corner of his bed.

"I killed you," he whispered.

Hermione turned her head to face him, and he stumbled backwards. Instead of her lovely brown eyes, there were onyx gems, no white.

Her mouth was hard. " _Murderer_."

Draco fell to his knees. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

" _Murderer_."

"Please, they made me—"

" _Murderer!_ " she screamed. She stepped towards him, wand aloft, and Draco stared at her hopefully. He would've welcomed death.

Instead, the image of her dissolved, and Draco was left alone in his bedroom, waiting to die.

* * *

He was wreaking havoc on a Muggle village, all on his own. His eyes were as cold and grey as steel.

He didn't want to hear any more voices. He did not want to see any more ghosts.

He wanted _control_.

No more nightmares. No more guilt.

He killed a man begging for mercy in three seconds. He looked away from his eyes, and immediately hated himself.

He screamed with anger, and exploded a house on his right, sending screams and fire into the air. He hoped they were dead with every part of him.

* * *

He was hurrying down the cellar steps to visit Ginny again. Some part of him needed to see her, needed reassurance that he wasn't all bad.

Antonin Dolohov blocked the stairway. "Going somewhere?" he asked, examining his fingernails.

Draco froze.

"Just checking on the Weasley girl," he replied faintly, regaining his composure. "We still need her as bait for the Order."

Dolohov gave a short bark of laughter.

"How unfortunate."

Draco blinked and his heart started thudding uncontrollably. "Excuse me?"

"You can go back upstairs and hope the Order doesn't figure out the Weasley girl is _dead_."

His heart stopped.

"How?"

"Starvation. Shock. Stress. Depression. I don't know. I don't care."

"Dead?" Draco repeated.

He stumbled backwards.

"Dead." Dolohov confirmed, with another one of his insane grins.

Draco ran.

He didn't know what he was running from. It could be death, death, and death, but it could also be the darkness waiting to swallow him up.

He threw himself onto his bed and wanted to cry, but his eyes had forgotten how to.

He sat up and waited for the voices to come.

* * *

Draco awoke from his latest nightmare to see Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange peering down at him.

"Screaming again, Malfoy?" Greyback asked, sneering.

Draco didn't reply. Maybe this time they'd actually kill him.

"The boy's a weak little whelp. We should kill him." Greyback told Bellatrix in annoyance. "None of us can sleep!"

Bellatrix considered. _Please_ , Draco prayed.

"The Dark Lord wants him alive." she said finally, her eyes distasteful. "Why, I don't know."

"I'm his Heir." Draco responded, sitting up.

Both of their eyes narrowed, as if they didn't want to be reminded of that fact.

"What the Dark Lord doesn't know won't kill him," Fenrir snarled, pointing his wand at Draco's face.

But Draco was faster. " _Avada Kedavra!_ " he said, and Fenrir fell down, dead.

Bellatrix stared at him.

"He wanted to kill me." Draco said, breathing hard. "He won't. No one can kill me. I am in control. _I am in control_ , do you hear me?"

Bellatrix fled.

* * *

Draco walked into his bedroom the next morning, expecting a new ghost.

Albus Dumbledore stared back at him. "You killed me, Draco." he rasped, standing.

Draco said nothing. He'd learned to stay silent.

"There's blood on your hands that will never wash off!"

Draco said nothing. He refused to look at his hands. He refused to look at his _hands_.

 _Control_. Control.

Dumbledore disappeared, and Draco exhaled a breath he never knew he'd been holding.

He missed his mother.

* * *

Draco had just returned from an evening of torture, and he was soaked in another's blood.

He went straight to his sink and turned on the cold water, scrubbing his hands and watching the scarlet pool on the marble.

For some reason, not all of it left. No matter how hard he scrubbed, blood was still stained on his skin.

Frustration bubbled up inside him; and he looked into the mirror. He was greeted by a thin, pale, wraith of a person, a black-and-white person that looked wholly dead.

Feeling defeated, he dropped his head and finally wept.

* * *

"Kill him." Voldemort said calmly, looking his weak Death Eater straight in the eye.

Draco looked at the man too. He was tired-looking, with heavy bags under his eyes. His body was relaxed, and his expression peaceful. He too waited for death, just like him.

A ghost appeared in front of him.

"Are you living your life, or just waiting to die, Draco?" Dumbledore asked, his brilliant eyes stern.

Draco stared at Dumbledore, and then at the man, and then at Voldemort.

The Dark Lord waited expectantly.

"I won't." Draco said, awed at his own stupidity.

Several Death Eaters gasped, and Voldemort smiled.

"Come now, Draco. Do it quickly. What's different from all those other killings?"

"This time, I know that murder is a coward's way out." Draco replied. "I've finally realized."

Voldemort's smile disappeared.

He pointed his wand at Draco. " _Cru_ —"

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Draco shouted, and Voldemort's wand flew into his outstretched palm. Several Death Eaters gasped again, and stepped back.

"You cannot defeat me!" Voldemort screamed, spreading his arms wide. Draco had forgotten that Voldemort could do wandless magic.

He ran.

He ran to his only safe place, the only place he didn't need to have control. He ran to his bedroom.

He listened to their thudding footsteps behind him and ran to his window.

It was a hundred-foot drop.

Suddenly, his entire body relaxed. His eyes closed, and he felt peaceful.

He looked at the sky, a beautiful sunset, and remembered that there was still beauty in the world. Beauty, like Hermione Granger's eyes. And color, like Ginny Weasley's soul.

Orange and blue clasped hands and spun around the sun, glittering with purple and gold raindrops, shining into his silver eyes.

He smiled.

"Draco."

He looked to his right and saw his mother, as gorgeous as she was alive and well, and she blessed him with her smile. "Draco. It will be alright."

"Mother?" His voice cracked.

"Take my hand, Draco. I will be with you."

Voldemort threw open his bedroom door, fingers splayed in his direction.

Draco put both feet on the windowsill, and looked at Voldemort, and smiled. He snapped the Dark Lord's wand in half and dropped the pieces over the side, and Voldemort howled.

He locked his eyes on Voldemort's scarlet ones, eyes that did not see the beauty unfolding in a gossamer sky, but Draco's held fire.

"I am in control." he told him, and turned to his mother.

He clasped her hand. "Don't let go of me."

And he jumped.

* * *

 _And all the kids cried out,_

 _Please stop, you're scaring me_

 _I can't help this awful energy_

 _Goddamn right, you should be scared of me_

 _Who is in control?_

* * *

 **A/N: ...Yep.**

 **And by the way, before any of you ask questions: He's dead. There's no sequel. Just letting you know.**

 **K BYEEEEE HAVE FUN WITH YOUR LIVES I LOVE YOU GUYS BUT YOU HAVE TO REVIEWWWWW PLEASE THANKS OK BYE.**


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